


The Independent College of Magi

by DAfan7711



Series: Beyond Circle, Beyond Order [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Circle of Magi, College of Enchanters, Gen, Happy Ending, Other, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/pseuds/DAfan7711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after Margaret Trevelyan defeated Corypheus and became Queen of Ferelden alongside King Alistair, mage twins Rane and Stella work with Grand Enchanter Connor and Arcanist Dagna at the Independent College of Magi. When every mage and guard at the College starts experiencing nightly attacks from demons, the twins are tasked with finding a solution before everyone becomes an abomination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Childhood dog killed (quick, but tragic). The children are later orphaned, at age ten.

Through a trick of the Fade, Rane saw his parents.

_Stupid demons._ They’d put his greatest desire in front of him, something so unattainable he immediately saw through the trap.

Staffless, he threw chain lightning into them with one hand, immediately followed by Immolate. They shrieked as only demons could and dropped their disguises, shrinking but still strong enough to lunge for him with talons extended.

His sister appeared at his side and rained down Firestorm, disintegrating the enemies with the same calm façade he knew he carried himself. With a hiss of green smoke, the demons were gone and the twins stood alone in the watery, brown, barren wasteland of the Fade.

She took his hand and looked to him, her clear blue eyes, freckles, and dimpled chin a more feminine reflection of his own face. Verbal communication was too dangerous here, where spirits could so easily overhear and manipulate the conversation. He nodded and she stepped them out of the dream to stand back in their bedroom at the Independent College of Magi.

“How did they entice you?” she asked as she dropped his hand. Stella needed the touch more than he did, but she always kept it brief, when he would have been content to keep the contact for hours.

“Mom and Dad, inviting me to relax by the fire and read to them.”

She snorted. “Too obvious.”

“Yeah. How ‘bout you?” He resisted the urge to lay a hand on her shoulder. She’d left their twin beds side by side these last ten years, so she could reach his hand in the night, but she hadn’t cuddled up to him on his side since the night before Corypheus and his orb were destroyed. She needed her space.

“A mabari.”

He smiled at the shortness of her reply. “Like you said, too obvious.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Hey, hey.” He turned her into his arms and she buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing.

“I killed the dog—” her strong voice broke. “He was shrieking.” The rest was muffled by his shoulder.

He kept one arm tight around her and ran his other hand down her long red hair, the fiery copper of it indistinguishable from his own as he rested his cheek to her scalp.

She drew herself up with a sniffle, pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her evening robes, and scrubbed at her face.

“Anyway,” her voice was still a bit thick. “It might have been more convincing the other way around.”

“Meaning I’d have been less wary of a dog because I’m not so attached?”

“Yes.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “It’s easier to be deceived by something that seems attainable.”

He frowned with concern. “Stella, we can get a dog—a puppy, even. We could run down to the stables right now and ask who in the village has a litter . . .” He trailed off when she shook her head.

“It was Aldin they showed me.”

Their mabari who had attacked the Templars. Templars who came to take them from their Ferelden cottage to live in the Circle. Rane stood with his mouth open for a moment, finally understanding why a dog was part of her deepest desires.

“Stella, it’s not your fault. He didn’t know any better; no one could have stopped him.”

“But he followed my example,” she insisted. “He acted on my cue.”

Rane and Stella, born in the midst of the Fifth Blight, had been seven. Tensions were high, but Kirkwall hadn’t exploded yet. With brave resolve and tear-stained faces, their parents had hugged them goodbye with whispers of encouragement.

“Go, learn.” Mom had kissed his cheek.

“I love you.” Dad hugged them simultaneously, squished together the way he did every night, but with a new force and trembling hands.

It happened when they crossed the threshold.

“We’ll help you get settled,” a Templar with kind brown eyes and no helm laid a gentle hand on Stella’s shoulder. She batted him away with a disgusted grunt and scowl.

Quick as a flash, Aldin, who had been sitting at happy attention beside the front stoop, lunged for the Templar. He gave no warning growl or bark, just leapt for the man who had touched Stella.

The three knights who had waited outside instinctively raised their swords, impaling Aldin, who made no sound. The dead mabari fell to the ground with a thud, blood gushing from his three wounds to pool in the worn indent of the front stoop.

The children had been numb with shock, eyes wide, mouths open. They’d never seen death before, hadn’t known it could be so swift, so close, so . . . bloody real.

Just three years later, after King Alistair gave the Free Mages sanctuary in Redcliffe, Rane and Stella’s parents had attempted the journey to see them and were killed on the road. It wasn’t clear whether it had been bandits, mages, or Templars who killed them: Fiona had identified their bodies at a mass burial several weeks later and the children hadn’t been allowed to attend. However grim, even at age ten Rane would have preferred to be the one who had scattered that first handful of dirt on his parents' grave.

Struggling with memories, he clenched and unclenched his hands by his sides, wanting to hug her again but knowing she’d just push away.

“Forget it,” she said, turning to pull a pair of matching green robes from the armoire. “Dagna will want the details on this latest attack. And we’ll need to see if anyone else had demon dreams last night.”

-

All morning her brother kept throwing her concerned glances, his hands twitching in her direction, like he wanted to fix everything. The third time this happened during their mid-day meeting with the Grand Enchanter, Stella glared at Rane and he demurely clasped his hands in his lap, finally focusing on what Connor said.

“Every Novice reports nightmares now. Daily.” Connor Guerrin addressed them from across the ornate desk that had once been in his father’s study in Redcliffe. He looked up as the Arcanist entered his office.

“Every Enchanter, too.” Dagna’s usual cheer was absent. “I’ve asked the Guard Captain to interview her personnel; I think we’ll get the same answers as yesterday. And I overheard Horsemaster Ahearn tell the cooks that the livestock were all spooked last night.”

She went to stand at Connor’s right hand. Even while he was seated, the dwarf stood barely as tall as his shoulder. She may have been unable to dream, but worry must have kept her up anyway, for the circles under her eyes were just as purple as Connor’s.

“Even the animals. It looks like I’m the only one immune to these attacks. Connor,” she sent her best friend a pleading look, “if you’d only tell me more about what happened to you last night—”

“At lunch, I promise.”

“Grand Enchanter, is there something we should know?” Stella winced. She hadn’t meant to be that abrupt. Rane frowned at her, but Connor just gave her his usual kind smile.

“I will certainly keep my research staff informed of essential developments, Enchanter Stella.” After three weeks of tension, she found it odd to hear someone amused.

He rose and pulled a hefty tome from the top drawer of his desk, smoothed his hand down the cover, and looked to Dagna. She nodded.

“Perhaps you will find clues here that we could not.” As Connor approached, Stella lifted her hands to accept the book.

It had a plain brown cover of druffalo hide, with a strap of purple ram’s leather to hold it closed. The visible edges of vellum were yellowing, yet crisp and straight with no rips. It smelled like the Fade and felt like it had been recently touched by a water rune.

“Why water?” Rane asked. “You’ve used a water rune to examine the tome.”

Of course he could feel it. She, however, usually needed touch to clearly identify what kind of magic objects held.

“Water flows with story,” Stella murmured, smoothing her hand down the cover as Connor had. “Reveals secrets.”

“Yes,” Dagna said. “But the tome remains silent. The magic does not sing to us.”

“But you two can hear everything!” the twins said in unison.

“Not quite.” Connor shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face, looking much older than his thirty years. Or perhaps he looked younger, less certain. Even after a decade of leading the Independent College of Magi, he was the youngest Grand Enchanter on record.

Dagna was nine years older than he, yet she looked even younger, her reddish auburn hair back in short pigtails instead of the intricate braid she’d worn atop her head during the latest Inquisition.

Stella slid the purple strap off and opened the tome in her lap. “What song did you look for? Why do you think the answer’s in here?” She blinked. “Wait, these are bedtime stories, not spells.”

“No wonder it smells like the Fade,” Rane said. “Perfect for dreaming.”

“It’s just a feeling we have,” Connor said and Dagna beamed at him. Every time they shared one of their “just a feeling” moments, some new fade-touched creature or peace talk popped up.

Stella raised an eyebrow at Rane, who shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said.

“So, you want us to examine the tome, figure out why the demons are focusing on the College?” Stella closed the book and slid the strap back over it.

“And see if those outside the College have been attacked, too.”

At Connor’s words, Stella fumbled and nearly dumped the heavy tome on her foot. She clutched it to her chest and stared at him. “You’re sending us to Madame de Fer?!”

“Connor,” Rane said, “You told us about how she wanted you executed – now you want us to parley?”

“Yes.”

Stella slumped in her chair. A visit with Vivienne. She’d rather face more demons.


	2. Meeting Madame de Fer

“So, what do you think happened to Connor last night?” Stella curled her formal robes into a tight roll to keep them from wrinkling in her satchel. They were to travel light, only taking what fit in their saddle bags and one bedroll each. To keep a low profile, only Stanley and Rachel, the Guard Captain’s two most experienced Lieutenants, would accompany them.

“I’d rather not speculate.” Rane tossed an extra pair of wool socks into his bag. “You’re our resident Dreamer. Why would I know something you don’t?”

“Knock knock.” Dagna rapped on the thick wood of their open door. “Are you ready, little ones?”

She squealed when Rane ran over and swopped her up and around in a circle, hugging her to his chest.

“My dear Arcanist,” he said, “Whenever will we be old enough to go off and find our fortunes?” He gave an exaggerated pout, eyes sparkling with mischief instead of tears, and laid a sloppy kiss on her cheek before setting her down.

However serious their plight, Dagna and Rane couldn’t go an hour without some kind of cheerful exchange. They found magic—well, magical.

While she’d never considered her gifts monstrous, Stella did not usually feel the joy her brother and the dwarf so clearly found in magic. Connor assured her that doubt was natural and healthy, just as long as she didn’t let herself drown in it.

“My mother taught me to be ashamed and fearful of my gifts,” he’d told her one sunny summer afternoon shortly after the war. “Dagna showed me that’s not true.”

He’d found her crying under his desk and sat down on the floor, close enough to talk without crowding her, sunlight glinting off his gold hair just like the King’s in the painting on the wall. Through the open window, they could hear her brother and Dagna squeal and laugh. Rane had enchanted a kite to fly in zooming circles in the courtyard, despite there being no wind. It was the kind of frivolity her parents and Aldin had loved, but the Circle had prohibited because it could entice a desire demon.

“Your mom was a mage?”

He smiled. “No, and she chose the wrong mage to be my first tutor.” There was no heat, only compassion in his voice. “But Dagna _understands_ magic, where my parents did not.”

She’d peered out from the little square cave of shadows under the desk.

“Is that how we can be safe? Understand?”

“You understand plenty enough already to be safe. Anyone who says otherwise is the one who doesn’t understand.”

She’d solemnly nodded and crawled out and they walked hand-in-hand down to the yard to watch Rane and Dagna dance beneath the red rectangle that swooped around the still sky.

_I wonder if Dagna still has that kite?_

Probably. Dagna also had a little griffon-embossed wooden chest under her workbench where she kept all the little polished stones and trinkets the twins had discovered and proudly presented to her during their childhood adventures.

Their adult journeys tended to be more formal, less playful, yet Dagna had the same bright enthusiasm for every tidbit of information they brought back.

“Now, don’t stray from the path after some fade-touched wyvern,” Dagna said. “Straight to Orlais and home again. And don’t dream your way home or into Connor’s head while you’re away, Stella, just in case. His full attention will be here and yours should be in your present place also.

“Travel by daylight, read the stories before you sleep, and the demons won’t follow.”

Rane narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

“ _Read to me, so that I may have sweet dreams_ ,” Dagna said. “It’s the first line in that tome you’re taking with you.

“Here are the official letters Connor prepared.” She handed some sturdy silver cylinders to Stella to pack on top of the tome of bedtime stories.

“How was your lunch?” Rane asked. “Did he say anything else about last night?”

Dagna’s smile faltered. “He was offered a chance to undo a tragedy at Redcliffe.”

 “Which one?” Stella asked.

“We don’t know.”

They finished their packing in subdued silence and headed out.

Connor met them at the stables to see them off.

“Safe travels,” he said.

 “Don’t let Vivienne’s manners or blood song deceive you,” Dagna said. “She can be a very potent opponent.”

-

The clenching of Stella’s stomach had nothing to do with road conditions or the dried dates she and Rane had shared with their two guards when they’d stopped for their mid-day meal.

The ride was surprisingly uneventful from Lothering village to Val Royeaux, the capital city of Orlais where Vivienne was Grand Enchanter of the new Circle in the White Spire. It was a significant step up from when she’d led the chantry-controlled Circle in Montsimmard.

As they neared the city center, Stella’s dread grew.

Ten years ago, Leliana had been elected Divine Victoria and declared all mages free to govern themselves with no chantry oversight. Connor and Dagna had welcomed mages and the non-magical from all over Thedas to join them in building the Independent College of Magi. Vivienne played on the fears of Loyalist mages, who soon granted her full power over themselves. She also held the Lyrium leash of the last remnants of the Templar Order, keeping them as her personal guard.

“Should we be doing this?” Stella asked. “Not even the Empress dares approach the Grand Enchanter.”

Rane laughed. “Really, do you think Connor would send us here if we weren’t up for it?”

“Weren’t you worried about how she wanted Connor executed?” She shot back and he sobered.

“Stella, we have to do this.”

They rode their horses into the courtyard of the inn and Rachel went in to present Connor’s sealed message to the proprietor, who immediately scurried out to welcome the agents of King Alistair’s cousin and assist Stella down from her mount.

 _We have to do this._ She repeated the mantra over and over in her head as they were led to inspect their accommodations, a suite always held ready for Ferelden’s royal family. She went to the window and gripped the stone sill with shaking hands, not daring to speak. In all their other travels, she’d been the one to butter up their hosts, but Rane would just have to take over this time.

“I do hope this suits, my Lady,” the owner said.

Stella looked over her shoulder.

“Yes, thank you,” Rane said, holding out a rolled parchment. It was sealed with purple wax imprinted by Connor’s signet ring and contained a request for an audience. “We have a message we would like delivered to the Grand Enchanter of the Circle.”

The proprietor’s round face paled. “Certainly, I can have a runner take it straight away, Messere.”

He bowed and backed out of the room, leaving the twins alone.

Stella turned back to the window. “Do you . . . do you think she keeps phylacteries?”

“Probably.”

“And what would Connor say about that?”

Rane sighed and sat on the bed. “He’d say it doesn’t matter, we need to focus on the task at hand.”

“But we’re _free_!” She spun to face him. “They can’t leave even if they wanted to: She’d have them hunted down, use those blood-filled vials to track and slaughter them!”

“We don’t know that.”

Blight him for being so damn calm and reasonable. Her fear was perfectly reasonable, too.

Stella thought about how Fiona had smashed the apprentices’ phylacteries the day the Circles voted for independence. No Enchanter had breathed easy, however, until word spread that mysterious fires in Denerim and Val Royeaux had destroyed all the phylacteries held by the chantry. That was about ten years ago. She’d been a child and not understood, not until Dagna explained that after your Harrowing, your phylactery went to a chantry storehouse so Templars could hunt you if you ran away.

_Hunt you._

She shivered, immune to the hot sun shining through the window. “Let’s get this over with.”

-

Their invitation to the White Spire arrived just after lunch the following day. Vivienne had made them wait a fashionable amount of time: just enough to show her power without giving them cause to get King Alistair involved. The College may have been independent, but King Alistair would move the Frostback Mountains to Montfort if his cousin Connor requested it.

The wait did nothing to ease Stella’s dread. If something did go wrong, the College might not get word for weeks—she’d heeded Dagna’s instructions not to dream her way home during this trip—and any response from Denerim would take longer, arriving long after whatever fate awaited them today.

The afternoon grew uncomfortably hot as Rachel and Stanley rode with them to the tower fortress, where a silent guard of Templars led the four of them up an impossibly long set of stairs. Bringing two guards or twenty, it wouldn’t have mattered: Getting in and out would be entirely up to Rane and Stella’s own power.

Yet Stella’s heart beat slower than it had this morning. The long walk was giving her time to think, plan. Vivienne’s servants might have swords, but their blood was not more powerful than her own.

_I can hear the Lyrium sing, but they’re not as strong as me._

Which meant they weren’t as strong as her brother, either.

“I’ve never met a Templar before,” Rane said brightly to the helmed man leading them. As kids they had lived with Templars in the Ferelden Circle and then taken shelter with the Inquisition, but perhaps his feigned ignorance would get these guards to reveal something. “Do you like working here?”

The guard grunted in response.

“Our guards love our annual picnic,” Rane went on. “Do you have something like that?”

Stanley choked back an amused snort and Rachel smiled, but the Templars ignored the comment.

Clearly, her companions were as unperturbed by their hostess’ guards as she was. There were just two more threats to consider: Did the demon dreams that plagued the College also affect the Circle, and exactly how dangerous was Vivienne?

As they entered the sun-filled foyer, she surreptitiously brushed her right pinky along the cold stone of the doorway, channeling Fade memories from the Spire into herself. Before her waking eyes as she walked she saw a flash of a shaggy-haired, emaciated youth in dungeon shackles holding hands with an ethereal twin of himself.

It was an old memory. Troubling, but probably not related to the task at hand.

“Someone starved to death here,” she said. “Does it affect your dreamers?”

“Dreamers are abominations,” the Templar behind her barked. “You’ll find none here.”

The one in front said, “The Grand Enchanter knows all there is to know about the Circle and its difficult history. She could best address any questions.”

They were led through a labyrinth of polished stone hallways to the Grand Enchanter’s formal receiving room, choc full of plump chairs, dainty tables, and bookshelves packed with tomes in various languages. The Templars took up silent positions around the walls and on either side of the door.

Rane bent to whisper in her ear, “A bit of overkill, don’t you think?”

“They’re pretty benign,” she whispered back, “and I’m not hearing any demon song in the building’s Fade memories. I’m more worried about Vivienne’s power.”

“Don’t be.” He brushed an invisible speck of lint from her sleeve. “She’s a master of the Game, nothing more.”

Like the Game was any less deadly than an archdemon or terror. They both knew better.

The Steward, a thin man with pristine coiffed white hair, entered in a flourish and announced, “Grand Enchanter Vivienne of the first Circle of Val Royeaux, Savior of the Loyalists, and defender of the faith.”

He and all the Templars bowed so low, they looked like they’d fall on their faces. It was the first time this trip that Stella felt like laughing—and it was the most inappropriate time to do so.

The last of her fear evaporated when Vivienne sashayed in, looking much younger but just as refined as Danga said she would. The magic in her blood sang like a mocking bird atop a frigid mountain, no more powerful than Fiona, though more abrasive. Stella didn’t forget Dagna’s warning, but she was certain she could play along with whatever Madame de Fer threw at them.

Rane made a little choking sound and Stella shifted her inner ear to his blood song. It usually flowed in perfect harmony with hers, like a cheery flute mixes with a strong fiddle in a cozy pub. Now it stuttered like a whistle blown too hard and she could hear his heart fall at Vivienne’s feet, within easy crushing distance of her booted heel.

 _Bugger it_.

“Welcome, my dears.” With a single look, Vivienne shrewdly appraised the twins and pretended to ignore their two guards.

_Perhaps she’s looking to convert us, add us to her collection of followers._

“Grand Enchanter,” Stella kept her bow as shallow as she could without causing offense. “The Independent College of Magi sends their regards.”

Vivienne nodded and waited for her to continue.

“We have a communication from the Grand Enchanter of the College.”

Vivienne’s nose wrinkled at that, but at least she didn’t declare Connor an abomination.

Her steward stepped forward to take the sealed scroll Stella offered. The steward held it up for Vivienne to inspect the seal. She nodded and he broke it, unrolling the scroll and holding it up so she could read it while still keeping an eye on her guests.

Connor had also written a copy for the twins to read before they arrived, as was his practice whenever they traveled as his agents:

_Grand Enchanter Vivienne,_

_While I understand the Circle does not currently have any members who are dreamers, I have recently heard news of mages who aren’t dreamers encountering new faces in the Fade and I have offered to consult with them regarding safe practices. If your membership is interested in such an exchange, the Independent College of Magi stands ready._

_-Grand Enchanter Connor_

An expert at the Grand Game, nothing changed in her haughty expression as she read.  Vivienne nodded again and the steward bowed low and took his place by the door. The Grand Enchanter and her guests let the silence drag on until the Templars shifted uneasily on their feet.

_Your move, Vivienne. I can wait all day._

“Have you not been sleeping, young researcher? You look peaked.”

“Actually,” Stella answered politely, “I’ve slept very well.”

It was the truth. As per Dagna’s instructions, every day they’d made camp before dark and read one of the stories in the tome, then slept in deep peace while Rachel and Stanley took turns standing watch. Sometimes they even found a village inn, so all four of them could sleep through the night.

It was just in the daylight hours she’d been fretting about Vivienne. It seemed damned funny now, with Vivienne clearly perplexed by how to proceed. The College had offered no challenge or insult, had neither requested nor offered an alliance, and Stella and her companions were perfectly behaved guests she didn’t know what to do with.

An olive-skinned servant scurried in and bowed low, eyes to the floor and hands trembling. “Grand Enchanter, Marquise Briala of the Dales requests a meet—an audience.”

After a long moment of silence, he flicked his eyes up. Vivienne’s lips curled in a sneer. He backed out slowly, laying the rolled parchment on a side table with spindly, delicate legs.

“Problems with the Marquise?” Stella no longer felt any qualms about challenging Vivienne.

Rane glared at his sister.

“Celene went soft, taking her elven lover back.” Vivienne flicked her wrist toward the table and the parchment ignited in a fireball that burned so quick and fierce, not a trace of ash remained a moment later. “Not only was it poor taste to grant her such a position—the Dalish and the human nobles are all rightly outraged—it undid all her work to quell the elven uprising in the cities.

“Such risks are irresponsible.”

Rane asked softly, “But didn’t you risk everything for Bastien?”

Vivienne turned her cool gaze on him. “Poor thing, you’ve clearly listened to the wrong Inquisition gossip.” She said the word _Inquisition_ like she was telling a servant she’d found a spider in her soup.

“Perhaps associations with your soft-hearted dwarf have also addled your mind.”

Stella heard the mingled songs of love and anger battle in Rane’s heart, but his response was as soft as his original question.

“Arcanist Dagna is more a Master of magic than any Enchanter in history.”

“Good luck with your research,” Vivienne replied haughtily, waving a hand for her steward to open the door. “I’m sure your little school misses you.”


	3. Love and bedtime stories

_I can’t do anything about this._

It shouldn’t hurt so. Rane hadn’t believed Dagna when she said love could bring as much sorrow as joy. Connor was fairly oblivious to matters of romance—he never even noticed how good looking a person was, only what song their blood carried—but Dagna had seen the twins through their first crushes and patiently explained which parts of Tethras novels were pure fantasy.

Last year, Rane and Stella had been Connor and Dagna’s personal attendants at a formal banquet in Denerim. After several goblets of wine, King Alistair stood at the head of the table and gave a rather sappy account of falling in love with the Herald of Andraste the moment their eyes met in Redcliffe. Queen Margaret and Connor seemed to find it amusing. Eyes shining, Dagna had suppressed a squeal and clasped her hands together. Rane hadn’t thought much of it and Stella had been just as stoic.

Turns out love-at-first-sight can happen, even if it’s one-sided.

_Bugger it._

A melancholy cloud filled his chest as they rode back to the high-class inn where Connor had insisted they stay. Night had fallen, the dark punctuated only by the white magic glow of the Spire, like a giant sword visible from anywhere in the city.

It was depressing, but not a danger to the College. If the demon attacks had been connected to anyone there, Stella would have felt it as soon as she touched the stone wall and they would have run before seeing Vivienne. He hadn’t heard any suspicious music in the Spire’s magic.

“It’s clear the Orlesian Circle isn’t connected to our plight,” Rane said as soon as they were alone in their room.

“Rane, you’re in love with her.” Stella never did let him avoid the heart of an issue. “I don’t need to touch you to hear your song. Your magic sings bittersweet.”

He leaned on the stone sill of the window and bowed his head in front of the inky blackness. “Do you know how many lives Vivienne destroyed in her fruitless quest to save Duke Bastien de Ghyslain? It’s ridiculous that I’d be infatuated with someone so cruel.”

“You’re not infatuated. You’re in love.” When he didn’t answer, she went on. “What are you going to do about it?”

He turned to face her. She was leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed, face passive.

“I . . . maybe I’ll stop feeling this for her someday. But if I never do, I’m still going to do what’s right.”

He offered his hand and she crossed the room to take it.

“Whatever happens, my loyalty is to the College.”

She laid her free hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I do.” He searched her blank eyes, yearning for the mutual understanding they didn’t usually need to articulate with words. “You’re my life. You, Connor, Dagna. The College.

“If we ever part, I still won’t join the Circle.” He dragged her into a fierce hug and sighed with relief when she didn’t push away. “We are free.”

She buried her face into his shoulder, snuggling closer than she had in years.

“Yes, Rane, we are free.”

-

Stella was tired. She was tempted to skip reading the tome tonight, but Dagna had instructed them to read it nightly, so they did.

“Any preference for what to read tonight?” she asked her three traveling companions as they sat down on the rug in front of the hearth. They’d read each story at least once during this trip and she couldn’t remember a single dream, much less a nightmare. Despite long rides every day, Rane, Rachel, and Stanley also looked better rested now than when they’d left the College, even though the two guards took turns keeping watch when they camped.

“I like the one about the mabari who wants to find herself her own girl,” Stanley said. He and Rachel shared a smile. It was Rachel’s favorite.

Stella smoothed the book open in her lap and began to read aloud.

_“One fine day in Ferelden, a mabari puppy named Anne decided she wanted a little girl of her very own. A girl strong enough to throw sticks. A friend to play hide-and-seek with in the autumn leaves. Someone who liked puppy kisses . . .”_

Rane rested the side of his knee against hers. Stanley leaned back on his hands and watched her read. Rachel hugged her knees to her chest, rested her chin on her forearms, and stared blankly into the fire as Stella read the adventure of making a new friend and finding a happy home.

_“ . . . and so the mabari puppy and her girl curled into the blankets and drifted into sweet dreams. And all was well in Ferelden.”_

Stanley stretched and got to his feet. “Thank you, Enchanter Stella.” He offered Rachel a hand up. “I think my favorite part is when they go fishing and the dog prances around the stream without catching anything.”

Rachel laughed as he helped her up. “Of course it is.”

They bade the twins good night and went to their own room.

As they climbed under the covers, Stella thought about the meeting they’d had in Connor’s office before they left.

“Rane?”

“Yeah?”

“If reading the bedtime stories gets rid of nightmares, why didn’t Connor just have everybody read them at the College?”

 “Did it look like reading the tome worked for him?”

She remembered the purple circles under Connor’s eyes. “No, he and Dagna read it, but he still had demon dreams.”

Rane flopped on his back, eyes closed. “So . . .”

“So, when I read it, none of us has nightmares.”

“Yup.”

She grunted in disgust and shoved the pillow under her neck. “They could have just asked me to read it to everyone right then and there—not shoved us out the door.”

“Would it have worked?”

She sat up. “What do you mean?”

“He handed you the book. She told you not to dream your way back home into his head. No way they’ve forgotten you’re a Dreamer. Why risk sending you away when you’re the answer?”

“Because the tome had no song, no magic . . . Was this trip an elaborate ruse to get a Dreamer to fill up the book with magic? I could have camped just a day’s ride away, been back within a week, read the stories to everyone in the courtyard, and been done—wait: where did the demon attacks come from in the first place? We had to rule out the Circle.”

“Exactly.” Eyes still closed, Rane settled his hands across his stomach.

She flopped back down to her pillow with a huff. “You know everything, don’t you?”

He smiled serenely. “Nope, I just follow your lead.”


	4. Home safe

“We’ve been gone more than a month.” Stella encouraged her horse into a trot and Rane made to keep pace. “I worry there won’t be anyone left for me to read to.”

“Relax,” Rane said. “If even a single death or abomination had come to light, the news would flash across Thedas like wildfire.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“You’ll see. Tomorrow we’ll be home, you’ll read the book to everyone, and the nightmares will be gone.”

They pulled off the main road to camp by a pretty little stone well. Thin posts held a triangular wooden roof over it, dangling a rope and bucket above the water.

“Strange that no one else is camped here,” he handed his reins to Stanley. “It’s a busy road and there aren’t any other water sources for miles.”

The guards settled the horses while Rane collected kindling and got a fire going. Stella checked out the well.

“We’ll have to make do with our water skins tonight,” she said. “There’s a dead bird in the well. Anyone who stopped here probably moved on because the water’s tainted . . .”

Her voice trailed off and an eerie itch settled between Rane’s shoulder blades. Her next insight didn’t bring him any comfort.

“That’s how it spread, from the well in the College courtyard.” She got down on her knees by him, eyebrows furrowed in earnest concentration. “The more taint you carry, the easier it is for demons to find you in the Fade. Everybody drinks different amounts. The water troughs don’t need filling every day. It’s why it took so long for everyone to be affected, why the animals were the last to be attacked.”

Rane put another log in the fire, waiting for her to continue.

“Blood in the water,” she whispered and sat back on her heels. “Blood in the water carried demons into our dreams.”

“Whose blood?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure Connor and Dagna do, and they kept it from us.”

Disappointment settled in his stomach, but he kept his tone light.

“I’m sure they’ll explain everything tomorrow.”

-

_“I will certainly keep my research staff informed of essential developments, Enchanter Stella.”_

She sniffed at the memory and her horse nickered in response while plodding on. Connor had hidden something essential.

The Grand Enchanter and Arcanist had always seemed so forthcoming. Maybe that was because they’d had no reason not to be—until now. Rane seemed certain they would explain everything when they returned. Stella wondered if it would be the whole story, or if Connor would again trust her with only an abridged version, and she felt web-thin cracks spider around her heart.

When they arrived, everyone was in the courtyard waiting. Cheers went up from the crowd as they entered the gate and dismounted. Everyone looked suspiciously well rested.

“What’s all this?” Stanley pointed to wagons full of rain barrels.

“Well’s off,” one of the guards answered. “And the local stream still isn’t clean from the Fifth Blight. Grand Enchanter’s been shipping in fresh water since the day you left . . .”

So she had been right. He’d known the source and not shared it with her.

Dagna and Connor met the twins with hugs, his just as warm as usual, but for the first time in her life she felt stiff and brittle as Connor embraced her.

“It was a blood taint in the well,” Stella said flatly, stepping back from Connor.

“Yes.” He gave her his usual kind smile. “If you read us the whole book now, the stories will make the water run clean again.”

“Whose blood was it?”

“Later,” he said, guiding her to stand on a box near the well.

She stood on the box and read the stories, beginning to end, her strong voice carrying the words to every ear. Her insides felt full of holes, but the flow of her storytelling revealed none of the defects she held inside. Finally, she read the last line.

"And all was well in Ferelden.”

_Except for me._

Stella stepped down from the box so Dagna could climb up and get a water sample from the well with a wooden bucket. The dwarf drew a simple silver amulet from her pocket and used the chain to dunk it in the bucket. When immersed, the amulet glowed gold.

“It’s clean!” the Arcanist announced.

Cheers went up and everyone started talking at once.

Stella found Connor standing alone in the dim doorway of the stable and went to stand beside him to watch the gathering.

“Whose blood was it?” she asked without preamble, searching his face.

He sighed. “A blood mage I once knew. He’d come seeking sanctuary, but died before he could meet with me.”

“Jowan?”

“Or someone who looked like him.” Connor kept his eyes on the crowd.

“Died, or was killed?”

“Killed.”

She waited in silence.

He sighed again. “It was a demon, one clever enough to not approach me directly, or I would have killed it that first night. I’m not a Dreamer; I couldn’t go looking for it in the Fade.”

Her heart trembled. “What did it send after you?”

“Rage demons.” He finally lifted his hazel eyes to meet her wide-eyed stare. “Legions of them. Every night.”

She reached toward him with a trembling hand, but let it fall limply to her side when he didn’t step closer.

“Promise me, Stella, that if it comes back, you’ll come straight to me, dreaming or awake. Don’t face it alone.”

“I promise.” She spoke so softly, she wondered if he could hear.

 He nodded and turned back to the crowd.

“Dagna confirmed it’s a demon of war and discord, likely Pride. I think it will go into hiding for a few centuries before it tries to possess someone else, hoping we in the waking world have forgotten the danger.”

Stella watched Connor walk away. Little chipped pieces of her heart trailed in the dirt behind him, but she couldn’t look away. He stopped to chat with Rane, Rachel, and Stanley, who had one arm around Rachel’s waist and the other over Rane’s shoulders. They were all laughing at something Stanley said.

“When did you fall in love with him?”

She spun around. “Arcanist!” The title came out in breathy surprise and Stella blushed.

“It’s okay,” Dagna gave her a friendly smile and squeezed her elbow. “Connor just doesn’t think about other people that way.”

“I know.” Stella looked at her toes, desperately wanting to talk about her one and only secret, something she’d never told anyone, even Rane.

She’d been in love with Connor for ten years. Half her life. A third of his.

Perhaps Dagna was the only one she could tell. She was his best friend, but she could be discreet. Telling him would only make things more difficult, but maybe telling Dagna would help her move on.

“Haven.” She took a deep breath.

“That last night, when the dragon swooped in and the mountain fell. We were huddled in the chantry, walls shaking, fires burning outside, screams and clashing blades all too near. Fiona trembled, but not Connor. ‘Help the person in front of you,’ he said.”

Her vision wavered with unshed tears as she forced herself to look away from her toes and speak to Dagna directly. “And that’s what he does. And that’s why I love him.”

“And that’s what you do.”

Stella blinked in surprise at Dagna’s revelation. Dagna reached up on her tip-toes to brush a strand of red hair out of Stella’s eyes.

“In and out of dreams. You’ve saved us all more than once. You know Rane’s in love but manage to hide your own feelings.” Stella gasped and the dwarf chuckled. “You forget who taught you to listen to blood’s magic song.

“Your heart will heal, Stella. You will not always feel bound to this place.”

“You’re my whole life,” Stella whispered.

“And are we holding you back?”

“No.” She thought back to what Rane had told her in the fancy inn at Val Royeaux.

“I know I’m free.”


	5. Epilogue: A heart healed

Enjoying the warm sun on her face through the open window, Stella hummed to herself as she mixed potions in her tower office at King Alistair’s fortress in Denerim. She didn’t flinch or break her tune when the door slammed open against the wall.

“Oh, Stella, whatever am I going to do?” Princess Sera, heir to the throne, strode in, her short gold curls dancing around her face and green eyes flashing. She still had her shield strapped to her back, her sword hung at her side, and she was covered in mud from the sparring ring.

“How did it go down there?” Stella kept her eyes on her measuring bottle as she poured.

“Oh, fine, I’m still undefeated—except for Mum and Da, of course, nobody ever beats them—but that’s not my _problem_.”

Stella smiled serenely. Every day the young princess of Ferelden had some kind of problem, and she was just as blunt as her parents. She was also as grateful as Alistair when help was offered.

“How can I help, your Majesty.” She dried her hands on a white cloth.

“My grandmother expects me to get _married_. Like, this summer. She thinks my ovaries are shriveling up or something and I have to make an heir, like, right now.”

Stella pursed her lips to keep from grinning. Queen Margaret’s mother was the most vocal of the Trevelyan clan, the most likely to fight to the death for her grandchildren’s future. She also sent frequent gifts of rare delicacies and antique jewelry from the exotic places she traveled.

“I said, what about my brother, and she said Duncan’s too young and he’s not heir and boys are _different_ . . .” She sighed and flopped herself down on the Enchanter’s bench to lean an elbow on the preparation table, thumping her booted heels down to splatter mud on the floor.

“I know boys are different,” she muttered.

Stella dragged another stool over to sit in front of her.

“Anything else?”

The Princess shrugged and wiped her nose on the back of her hand with a sniff. “She’s got some boring nobles coming here for a soiree, thinks Arl Guerin’s son might like me.”

“But do you like him?”

“He’s okay. Plays a mean hand of Wicked Grace.” She shrugged again. “Gran’s all _Teagan’s son this, and Teagan’s son that_ . . .

“As if someone else’s kid is more interesting than I am.” Her voice trembled.

“What did you parents say?”

That perked her up. “Oh, Mom says I should tell Gran ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and then just do whatever the blighted hell I want. Daddy says I don’t need a man. Ever. I can rule Ferelden on my own.”

That did make Stella smile. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I guess I don’t really have one.” Sera bounced up from her stool and gave her a muddy hug.

“Thanks, Enchanter Stella!”

And the princess was off in another whirlwind.

Stella thought she’d close up early, take some time down in the sunny gardens to write a letter to Dagna. Yes, Dagna would be absolutely gleeful about this latest development.

Stella resumed her happy humming as she mopped up the floor and put her tools away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Check out my [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/dafan7711/the-independent-college-of-magi/) for this story.
> 
> Read on! There's [Connor's story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4683272/chapters/10690550) (rated T), [The King and the Inquisitor ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4366598/chapters/9908555) romance (rated M), and [Stanley and Rachel's romance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5420012/chapters/12523112) (rated M).


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